


Can Cassie Come Over?

by Bdoing, mademoisellePlume, Vinnocent



Series: Heroes and Wolves [2]
Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 04:36:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1844587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bdoing/pseuds/Bdoing, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mademoisellePlume/pseuds/mademoisellePlume, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vinnocent/pseuds/Vinnocent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After discovering that her son is not only a werewolf but in danger because of it, Melissa calls the first person who comes to mind to help: a woman she hasn't spoken to in twenty years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Calling Cassie

It took four tries for Melissa to let the phone ring more than once, and another two times before Cassie picked up.

“Hello?” She sounded vaguely annoyed, and a lot older, but it was definitely the Cassie that Melissa had sort of known.

“Cassie?” She choked the word out, not realizing that she had been holding her breath until she deflated, curling up on her bed around the handset.

“Speaking!” Her voice was almost unbearably chipper. “Who’s this, please?”

“I-it’s Melissa.”

There was a very pregnant pause that stretched unbearably long. “Melissa... who?”

“It’s Melissa Chapman, Cassie. Rachel’s friend.”

A sharp intake of breath on the other side of the line. Melissa could almost hear the click of the line being disconnected, she expected it so strongly.

But after a minute, and considerably less chipper, Cassie swore under her breath.

“I haven’t heard from you in twenty years, Melissa. How are things going?” Cassie asked awkwardly. “And... no offense, but how can I be sure it’s you? I thought you were... well, dead.”

Melissa laughed. “Yeah, everyone there does,” she admitted. “Dad was too high up. They thought I might be threatened by angry ex-Controllers, even though I had nothing to do with it. So I got a relocation and a surname exchange.”

“Well, you definitely know all the lingo,” Cassie said. “What’s up? This can’t just be wanting to reconnect.”

“No, it’s not,” Melissa said. I... “There’s something going on. I’m in Beacon Hills, not far away, and I-- I really need some help. And you’re the only person I could think of who might actually be able to help.” She pinched the bridge of her nose; she could feel the migraine building.

“Beacon Hills? That’s not far off at all.” Melissa could hear the gears turning in Cassie’s head. They’d never really been friends, but they’d always been vaguely friendly, at least, separated by Rachel.

“Can you come? Just to talk, and maybe talk to my son, he-- uh, he--” She bit her lip.

“Is he in trouble?” Cassie was starting to sound worried herself.

“Yeah,” Melissa said. “Yeah, he is.”

Cassie sighed. “Okay. Give me an address?”


	2. Aunt Cassie Arrives

Someone was knocking at the door. Leaving his homework on the desk, Scott went down the stairs. It wasn't Stiles, since he never knocked. ...Actually most people he could think of that would be visiting him would probably not bother knocking.

So it was probably a neighbor or something.

He opened the door and smiled at the stranger.

"Hi. Is... this the McCall residence?" the woman before him asked slowly, pulling out a piece of paper and looking from it to the house numbers, as if to double-check the address.

"...Yeah?" Scott confirmed warily.

"Oh. Oh, good. So then you must be Melissa's son?" she asked, holding out a hand that was slightly weathered, with nails that were nibbled to bits. Her skin was very dark, her hair short and curly, her eyes brown and framed by crows feet. Her teeth gleamed in her face in a smile that seemed utterly genuine. She also smelled weird. Not bad! Just. Weird. He'd never smelt anyone quite like her before. Well, she sort of had a scent that reminded him of every shape-changer he'd known, but it was faint, and wasn't quite the same.  But he could tell she was no werewolf.

"Uh. Uh, yeah, I'm Scott." After a second of analyzing her scent, he stuck out his own hand and shook hers. "My mom's not here right now, she's at work, but if you come back later--"

"Actually, would you mind if I waited here?" she asked. "Your mother invited me to town, and I haven't really made arrangements." She laughed lightly as they released each others' hands. "I thought I'd see if I could throw myself on her hospitality for a while."

"Why did she invite you to town?" Scott asked slowly, suspicion creeping into his voice without him really realizing it.

The woman shrugged, bringing more attention to the... what were they called? Shoulder pads? Scott didn't even think they made those anymore. "I think that's between me and her for now. You can call her if you like. Tell her Cassie's here."

"I think I will." Scott said, slowly pulling his phone out of his pocket. 

She just smiled as he pressed speed dial, putting her hands in the pockets of her slightly oversized suit.

"Scott, I'm at wo-"

"Mom, there's a lady at the door, and she says you asked her to come to town." Scott interrupted.

There was a pause. "What's her name?"

"Cassie, she says." Scott said, his distrust plain as he turned away from the stranger so it would be harder for any human to hear his words.

He was not expecting the sigh of pure relief. "What's she wearing?"

"Uh, mom--"

"Scott, I asked you a question."

He winced at the tone in his mother's voice and turned back to re-evaluate the woman on the basis of her wardrobe. "Uh... a suit? With big shoulders, and," 'Cassie' had lifted up her pant leg to show her shoes, winking at him, "and... hiking boots?"

His mother sighed again. "That's Cassie alright. I'll be home in half an hour, invite your Aunt Cassie in and be polite." She hung up. He stared at his phone, then at his newfound 'Aunt Cassie' who quirked an eyebrow at him.

"...Uh. Would you like to come in?" he said.

"Gladly." Cassie said, smiling as she stepped in, closing the door behind her. "I take it my story checked out?"

"Or my mom's now recognizing people by their fashion sense," Scott muttered, gesturing that Cassie could follow him into the living room. "Would you, uh... like a drink?"

"Some water would be lovely. I just flew in and, boy, are my arms tired!" She laughed as if this was a very original and funny joke, or as if there was something about it that was personally amusing to her.

Scott went into the kitchen, filled a glass of water, and brought it to her. "So how do you know my mom?"

Cassie sipped her water, her eyes sad for a moment. "We grew up in the same town," she told him. "She was the friend of a friend. We lost contact a long time ago, before you were born."

That was surprising, and it made Scott realize something on a conscious level he'd never really thought about before. "I've never met any of my moms old friends before."

"No. I imagine you wouldn't have," Cassie replied calmly. "Lots of things happened back then. Keeping in contact with people was hard."

"So... no offense then, 'Aunt Cassie,' but why has she called you? Why now?" Scott asked, taking a seat on the couch, looking at the woman sitting carefully on an armchair with concern.

She smiled and yet again, shrugged. "That's still between us for now, Scott." She said, patting him on the shoulder lightly. "Aunt Cassie, hmm? I don't think I've ever been called that before," she mused, smiling widely again.

"...Okay." Scott said, then got to his feet. "I'm just gonna go... grab a thing from my room. Be back in a sec."

She waved a hand, and he went up the stairs, phone back in his hands as he texted Stiles with a quick summary of the situation.

The response of 'so what, your mom has a friend, big whoop' was slightly more underwhelming then he could have hoped.


	3. The Problem

They talked about Melissa's work for a while, and every time Cassie tried to bring the subject to bear on why she'd been summoned to Beacon Hills, Melissa side-stepped and brought the conversation to another point.

"And then we heard a smash and the vending machine was knocked over, the glass all shattered, and I don't need to tell you what a job and a half that was just getting Susie to stop screeching about it."

"I'm sure, Melissa, but is this really why you--?"

"And then I check the security footage, and who do you think it was but the boy who might as well be paying me rent for all the time he spends here?" Melissa interrupted, throwing up her hands in frustration.

Cassie was thinking of doing the same thing. Okay, so, whatever the trouble that Scott was in was either not something she wanted to talk about right away or... Or not with Scott in the house. She glanced up, knowing Scott sat up there in his room, his phone ringing as if to confirm that fact. Surely the walls weren't so thin that he could hear them? But, well, could survivors of the war that had never been ever be _too_ paranoid?

She wondered who was Scott's father, if it was someone she'd known. Someone she'd fought. "Melissa, I was wondering, who--?"

Footsteps came down the stairs, and Scott was peering at them. "Mom, can I have the keys?" he asked. "Dr. Deaton wants me to come in for an extra shift, so can I borrow the keys to the car?"

"Sure sweetie, and you can even borrow the car too," Melissa said with a smile. "Make sure you eat dinner."

"Will do!" He glanced over at Cassie as he caught the keys Melissa threw to him, breathing in deeply one more time as if to take in the scent of the air. Then, he shrugged the tiniest bit and left.

Cassie opened her mouth as the door closed, and Melissa shushed her, and kept shushing her until the car started up and had driven down the street.

"...Oooookay, is it safe to get some details now?" Cassie asked once Melissa took her finger away from her mouth.

"I think." Melissa sighed and dragged her fingers through her curly brown hair. "This is going to sound..."

Cassie laughed. She couldn't help it. "Melissa. I spend my days making advocating for the well-being of survivors of a war the government won't admit happened and evaluating the well-being of the Earth Free Colony of Hork-Bajir. _And_ I can still turn into animals. Nothing will sound strange to me."

"My son is a werewolf," Melissa said quickly. It all came out in one breath, as if she'd opened a dam.

"What," Cassie said, but Melissa kept going, unable to stop.

"He can go all, all bestial, and there was this thing, it was like a Hork-Bajir with the blades shaved off, and this boy shot him and he doesn't even have a scar anymore, and that boy's dead now, and I don't know what's happened to my little boy, I don't know how to keep him safe, and I don't, I don't...." Her voice broke, and Cassie realized she was shaking.

She wasn't crying though, and Cassie reached out and took her hands. "Melissa..."

"No one ever tells me anything! Never! Whatever's been happening to him he hid it, just like everyone hides things! My son! My little boy! He's been dragged into something so horrible and dark that getting shot barely phased him, and I... I didn't even notice how wrong things had gotten."

Cassie shushed her. "That's not true. You noticed something was wrong with your parents back in the day," she said. "I refuse to believe you didn't notice something was wrong with him."

A choked sob was her first answer, and Cassie's thumbs rubbed Melissa's palms soothingly before she got another. "I thought-- I thought, maybe his father was..."

"His father?"

"Not coming back," Melissa said quickly. "I think because I hated what he did. Maybe. But. If that affected Scott, I wouldn't blame him. I thought... maybe that teacher, who said he needed more discipline... or just, this back and forth thing with Allison, but.... I never thought it was, was something so strange!"

Cassie was rather lost, but she got the gist of it. Scott was a... werewolf. Melissa had known something was wrong but had assumed it had rational explanations, which included some issues with Scott's father. _(And a cold, cold feeling told her that if he'd laid a finger on Melissa or her son, the part of her that mourned Rachel every day would have her go and take the vengeance that Rachel would never be able to take but would have sorely wanted to have.)_

"Okay. I don't know how much I believe in this werewolf stuff..." Aliens were real, why not werewolves? Well, because aliens were rational, they were technology, and werewolves were just... superstition. But. "I'll find out," Cassie assured her. "Is it okay with you if I talk to Scott about this? Find out what this is all about?"

Melissa nodded and seemed to be pulling herself together. "Yes. That's fine. I knew you could make sense of this all. I knew you could help," she said, with far more faith than Cassie thought a paid-off veteran of a war that officially hadn't happened really deserved.

Cassie stood. "Tell me where he works, and I'll get started."


	4. Recon

Dr. Deaton nodded at Scott as he calmed down a cocker spaniel. The emergency surgery had gone well, but it had been very invasive, and without Scott there, he wouldn't have been able to give the poor creature enough painkillers to ease it.

Scott's hand pressed gently into the fur just above the bandage covering the incision, his other hand gently rubbing the dogs ears.

Dr. Deaton went into the next room to check the other animals in his care.

He stopped. His eyes scanned the room, and then he turned around and went back into the room Scott was in.

"Is she doing alright?" Deaton asked.

"She's fine now, falling asleep," Scott said, flashing his boss a little smile. The vet was always surprised by the pure sort of joy that could shine out of his eyes.

"Good to hear. Now, once she is, secure her in a cage, and run out and grab us some dinner, hmm?" He put a bill on the counter, and nodded to Scott before returning to the room with the other animals.

He waited there, quietly, until the front door closed as Scott took his leave. Then he said, very quietly, "I don't tolerate people coming in here with subterfuge, Miss Cassie, nor do I take it kindly when they spy on me."

The fly on the wall seemed to be frozen, not moving a bit.

"Do not play stupid with me. There is not one free agent left on this planet who can turn into an insect other than you, and I will not have this in my place of business." His palm hit the wall, just barely missing the tiny fly body. "Get out. Now."

The fly buzzed loudly as it flew off.


	5. Suspicion

"So your mom has a friend," said Stiles, throwing his hands up.

"But that's just it!" Scott insisted. "She doesn't. I mean, she does. She has lots of friends. But not friends from high school. She told me that she doesn't keep up with them anymore. But then Cassie comes over all the sudden, and Mom calls her my aunt, but Mom doesn't have any family, and if she did, why wouldn't I have met her before and why would she also be a friend from high school, and why would I have to describe what Cassie was wearing?"

Stiles thought about that for a second. A whole second. Then, he decided, "Maybe they're lesbians."

Scott gave him a Look. "Stiles, can we be serious for a second?"

"Okay, okay!" Stiles said, holding his hands up. He gave Scott a sidelong look. "Your mom really asked you to describe what she was wearing?"

"Yeah, this lady showed up claiming she was a friend of Mom's and asking to come inside, so of course I called Mom," Scott explained. "And she made me describe what Cassie was wearing before I could let her in."

Stiles raised an eyebrow. "Well, what was she wearing?"

"A suit," said Scott. "It had… uh…" He motioned to his shoulders as though there was something bulky on top of them. "Pads, you know?"

"What, like sports pads?"

"No, not sports pads! Just those pointy shoulder things from old TV shows."

"Shoulder pads?" Stiles gawked at him. "Well… That _is_ distinctive."

"I suppose, but…" Scott sighed and paced the empty lacrosse field. "Why? I mean… what reason does my mom have for disbelieving that Cassie is Cassie? I mean, if I called you and said 'Troy Pace from elementary school is here and wants to catch up' would you say—"

"Who the hell is Troy Pace?" asked Stiles.

Scott looked at him disbelievingly. "You don't remember Troy Pace?"

"Pfft, no, I do not remember this one kid I went to Elementary School with."

Scott sighed again and thought for a minute. "Okay, do you remember Mariana?"

Stiles snapped his fingers, making a connection. "Yes! Yes, Mariana I remember."

"Okay, so if I called you and said 'Mariana from elementary school is—'"

"I'd tell you to punch her in the face."

Scott rolled his eyes. "Man, never mind."

Changing the subject, Stiles asked, "Do you know what's going on with the Argents now that you… y'know…" Stiles mimicked biting his own arm.

Scott shook his head. "I've been giving Allison some space, after everything that happened."

"Well, do you know where Derek and his little cronies have disappeared off to?"

Scott shook his head again and started walking back toward Stiles's Jeep, Stiles trailing after him. "I think they're taking a break from me."

"What about Lydia and—?"

"Look, I don't know! Okay? It's summer. I think, after everything that happened… everybody just wants to—" Scott hesitated. "Do you hear that?"

Stiles shrugged. "I don't know. Is it a very faint sound?"

"Yeah."

"The kind you need werewolf senses for?"

Scott glared. "It sounds like bones crunching," he said.

Stiles stopped smirking immediately. "We're going to run toward the bones crunching, aren't we?"

Scott didn't answer. Instead, he took off. Toward Stiles's Jeep. Stiles swore under his breath when he realized that must be where the bone-crunching sound was coming from. "Why is it always my Jeep?" he demanded, running after Scott.

Scott slowed down, confused, as he neared the vehicle. He rounded the side of it and found Cassie, without her suit jacket, brushing herself off. She smiled up at him. "So, I guess it's obvious now why Melissa called me," she said with a slight smile.

"Whoa!" Stiles said upon joining them. "That's— Hi?"

"Cassie," she introduced herself.

"You don't look like you've broken any bones," Stiles mumbled, looking her over.

"I did," she said. "I broke them into human shape."

Stiles glanced at Scott. "Do you break them into human shape?"

"No," Scott said flatly, refusing to take his eyes off Cassie. "They shift. You don't smell like any werewolf I've met."

"Really? How many have you met?"

Scott scowled at her.

She smiled at him and stepped closer. "I'm serious, Scott. I want to know," she said. "I'm no more of an expert on this than you. My friends and I, we came into this on our own. Your mom called me because she was concerned. And I'm concerned. I want to know what you're afraid to tell her. The whole thing."

"You're saying my mom knew?" Scott demanded, sick and angry and confused. Stiles reached out to touch his arm, but he pushed him off. "You're saying that she knew about it, and she still can't look at me? She had a friend, and she can't speak to me? She knew, and she still sees a monster?" There were tears welling up, and Stiles's panicked attention continued to flicker helplessly between them.

"Hey! Hey!" Cassie reached out and took his arms. She then noted the claws and turned his hands downward. "Scott, I have met more creatures than you can imagine, and so very few of them were monsters."

"Your heart has been racing this entire time!" he accused angrily. "I know you're lying!"

Cassie swallowed nervously. "I… I'm just intimidated."

Watery yellow eyes bore into hers. Over fangs, he said, slowly, "You're _afraid_ of me?"

"No," she assured him quietly, shaking her head. "No, _intimidated_. I've never… This is new. I swear, Scott, I'm not afraid of you."

Scott tore his arms out of her grip and stepped forward into her personal space. Cassie was surprised, but she didn't step back. "You should be."

Cassie smiled. Her heart stopped racing. "I think you and I both know there are bigger bads out there." Carefully, she took his arms again. "Wanna talk about it?" she offered.

The fangs, claws, and yellow eyes disappeared.


	6. Honesty

"And the Argents are all werewolf hunters?" asked Cassie, sitting cross-legged back on the lacrosse field. Before her sat a very uncomfortable Scott, currently experiencing a roller coaster of emotions as he recounted the past year to her, and a tense and slightly hyper Stiles.

Scott nodded somewhat nervously, but Stiles felt the need to specify, "Hunters in general. They seem to specialize in werewolves, obsess over werewolves, but they have an entire bestiary dedicated to creatures they'd like to kill."

Cassie frowned. "That's concerning," she mumbled. "They get rich off this?"

Scott shook his head. "No. Their business is firearms. Mostly to the police."

"They a big family?"

"They were," said Stiles. "They keep dying." Scott gave him a sharp look and a warning of "Stiles." Stiles shrugged. "We've never had a formal introduction, but I get the idea a lot of the lackeys aren't Argents. Maybe other families, maybe suck-ups, maybe just the local psychopaths…" That got him another warning. "We don't have a lot of information on how they work," he summarized. "You?"

Cassie shook her head. "Sorry. I have never been hunted in that way."

Stiles's eyes narrowed. "That implies you've been hunted in _some_ way."

Cassie smirked sadly. She turned back to Scott. "You said Allison's in charge now? At the age of 17?"

"Almost 18," he said quietly. "Because of the moving."

Cassie nodded knowingly. "Why not her father, though? Or another relative?" Both boys just shrugged, so Cassie nodded again. "Okay. So next question. What happened to Peter?" The boys exchanged glances, then shrugged again, feeling guiltier about it the second time. She nodded again. "Okay, what did you mean by 'Derek's cronies'?"

"He's been giving the bite to people," Stiles answered too quickly. He refused to acknowledge Scott's glare. "He gave it to a kid with a horrible dad, an epileptic girl, and…" He blinked. He glanced at Scott. "What's Boyd's thing?"

Scott scowled, staring straight ahead. "I'm still working on that."

Cassie frowned. "He's claiming the bite will fix their problems." It wasn't really a question.

Stiles nodded eagerly. "Yeah! You've seen that before?"

Cassie glanced at the sky. "Something like it. A long time ago." She returned her attention to the two boys. "You haven't seen them lately?"

Scott shrugged and pulled his legs up. "Not since I poisoned Gerard."

Cassie looked at him pityingly. "You feel guilty about that."

"It had to be done," he said flatly.

"That doesn't mean you can't feel bad." She wanted to reach out and reassure him again, but she could tell that she'd already surpassed her limit on empathetic touching, so she'd have to hope her words were enough. "Don't think that you have to be hard to survive," she told him. "I guarantee you, there's plenty of hard people out there, and it doesn't help them a bit. People like you are a rarer kind, and you may be surprised how much it'll help you through."

Scott nodded in acknowledgement, but he didn't appear to believe her. Stiles scooted closer to him, and they were already nearly touching before he'd moved.

"Who's Lydia?" Cassie asked.

Stiles appeared slightly panicked, but Scott just shook his head. "She's just a girl. Happens to be immune to the bite. She… kind of got involved in things, against her will. Her boyfriend is— was— is? She knows Jackson."

"Immune?" said Cassie. "Why is she immune?"

Stiles blinked, surprised. "What do you mean 'why'? She's just immune."

Cassie frowned, but she decided to shrug it off for now. She stood and brushed herself off again. She extended a hand. "Let's go see Melissa."

Scott shook his head emphatically. "You can't tell her everything! It'll just make it worse! She'll worry, but I have to—"

"Scott, I get it," she assured him. "Trust me, I really, really get it. I think I can balance the truth with the worry. I think that's what she wants me to do. She knows you have role now, and she can't handle it."

He gazed up at her, confused. "I don't understand…"

"Scott, she's your mother. The reason she can't look at you isn't because she sees a monster," Cassie assured him. "She could never see a monster in you. It's because she sees a budding hero. And heroes die, Scott. She looks at her son and sees a corpse, and she can't even argue with that because what kind of person tries to stop heroism? I'm here to tell her how likely that is. To give you tips on making it less likely."

Scott appeared to think about that. "You… you've… heroed? Been heroic?"

Cassie smiled wearily. "Some people might say that."

"What would you say?" asked Stiles, eying her curiously.

She shrugged. "I lived."


	7. Truth

Cassie demorphed in the backyard. Melissa wouldn't have seen if she hadn't happened to be washing her mug at the time. The transformation was a lot faster and more fluid than she'd ever seen Marco do it. She looked around, for just a second, then realized that she didn't need that stupid ankle monitor, whatever had happened to it. She swore and wiped cold, wet hands over her raw, red face. This was supposed to be over. That was the one good part about the way he never came home. It was finally over. She didn't have to worry about what to tell her son and what not to tell her son. She didn't have to worry about the danger that came with knowing. She didn't have to hear weird sounds in the middle of the night and know that someone she loved was throwing themselves into danger. It was over.

But it was never over.

The backdoor swung open, and Cassie stuck her head into the kitchen. "Hey," she said. "Can I come in?"

Melissa nodded quickly and dried off her face with a hand towel. "Hi. Uh. How… I mean…"

"Fine!" said Cassie. She stopped abruptly, blinked, and then shook her head. "No, of course it's not fine. I don't know why I said that."

Melissa laughed, despite herself. "I remember now that you were a terrible liar."

"I wasn't trying to lie!" Cassie claimed. "It just came automatically. Besides, I've improved."

"You have?"

"Well, mostly, I've learned not to lie." She blushed. "If I'm asked a straight question, I still panic and say something stupid."

Melissa smirked. "Well, now I know how to make you expose yourself if I suspect you of lying."

"I wouldn't lie to you, Melissa." Melissa gave her a strange look, and Cassie quickly changed the topic. "Anyway, he is sort of fine." She went to the kitchen table and took a seat. "Your son is definitely a werewolf, which I didn't see coming. I thought maybe you or his father had been briefly involved with the morph academy, though I know they tested for that, but how thorough could those tests be, really? He's not, though, which I guess you already knew. He is… definitely a werewolf." She glanced at Melissa a bit shyly. "And, just so you know, he's under the impression that I am, too. I didn't say that; they came to the conclusion on their own."

Melissa shook her head. "You can't tell me not to be concerned. Not after everything that has happened."

"I know," Cassie assured her. "I know that. And that's not what I'm saying. He has been through a lot. You were right about that, but he's handled it remarkably well. You should be proud of the way you've raised him. There are teenage boys that… would not have handled this the way he did." Cassie fussed nervously with the fold of her blouse. "The Hales. Peter and Derek. They started this. Do you remember going on a date with a man you met at the hospital?"

Melissa rolled her eyes. "I remember trying to, until Stiles came out of nowhere and—" Suddenly realizing she was missing something, her attention was jolted back to Cassie.

Cassie nodded. "That was Peter Hale. Using threats against you and Allison to manipulate control of Scott, who resisted, who insisted on finding ways to protect you instead of complying with a man he knew to be a murderer."

Melissa shook her head slowly. "No, Peter Hale was a catatonic burn victim."

"Until he disappeared?" Cassie shrugged. "Melissa, I've seen my friends walk away from evisceration. I've seen a Hork-Bajir casually rip its own head open just to prove itself Yeerk-free. I've seen Controllers wrest only a few seconds of control just to speak their minds. I've seen people turn into monsters ten times their own size. I've been one of those people. I've traveled time and planets. I stopped a genocide with a kiss. Somehow, a catatonic burn victim who fully recovers within six years seems within the realm of possibility."

Melissa raised an eyebrow. "You traveled time?"

Cassie smiled. "Don't tell the government."

"Hm, you're lucky my house isn't bugged anymore, then," said Melissa.

Cassie's eyes widened. "Oops. Forgot about that. I'm used to the Valley. No one in or out they don't know. All I have to worry about is the phone."

Melissa shifted nervously. "Are the Hales still… I mean, should I be worried?"

Cassie shrugged. "I'll look into it further, if that's okay with you, but for now? I'd say wary, but not worried."

"Anything else?"

Cassie nodded. "His boss? Deaton?" Melissa's eyes widened in terror at knowing there was something suspicious about the man Scott worked for and admired. "I can't tell you what I know about him, but I can tell you that if there's ever a big danger? If things are just utterly out of control and you need to be somewhere safe? Go to him. Go directly to Deaton."

"He's an ally of yours?"

She shook her head. "Not anymore. They don't like us. The Animorphs, I mean."

Melissa frowned. "Why not?"

"Because we're violent," she admitted. "Because we purposefully manipulated them toward our own violent goals."

"You mean… he's a pacifist?" Melissa said, surprised. "You want me to run to a pacifist when things get hairy?"

"They're surprisingly apt," said Cassie.

"Does Scott know?"

Cassie shrugged. "He didn't talk to me about Deaton. I didn't get to see much of their interaction before Deaton caught me spying."

Melissa was surprised. "He caught you?" she said. "Why weren't you in morph if you were going to snoop?"

"I was," Cassie said, shrugging again. "I was actually a fly on the wall."

Melissa's eyes widened. "He recognized a specific fly in a veterinary clinic as being you?"

Cassie nodded. "I told you. Surprisingly apt."

"I suddenly feel much better about my son's prospects," Melissa admitted, finally taking a seat across from Cassie. "Anything else?"

"I'm not sure. I need to look into this Argent thing further," Cassie admitted. "And the runaways. But I can tell you that your son is worried about you."

Melissa didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "About me?" she gasped.

"About disappointing you. About worrying you." Cassie reached across the table and took Melissa's hand. "He loves you, Melissa. He's a good boy. And you need to have this talk with _him_ ," she said. "I'll stay as long as I need to, as long as I can, to help look after him, make sure he's secure. But only the two of you can save what's between you."


	8. Family

Allison shifted her weight again, feeling his eyes on her. It made her uneasy. She glanced at her dad, but if he'd noticed, he wasn't showing it. Fine. If they wanted her to learn how to be a leader, then she supposed she should act like one. She turned to the man at her side and opened her mouth as he turned to her once again, eyes combing over her. "Where did you get that jacket?" he asked.

Allison realized that she was still stuck on the first syllable of the rant she was about to gift him with and forced herself to shut up. Recollecting herself, she mumbled, "Uh, my mom bought it?"

"She has good taste."

"Had," Allison grumbled.

"Hm?"

"She had good taste."

Tyler seemed confused for a moment, then snapped his fingers. "Oh! Right!" he exclaimed.

Allison gawked at him. She had never met anyone with such an utter lack of common decency, Stiles included. "If you're her assistant, why aren't you with her?" she asked, changing the subject.

Tyler rolled his eyes. "Because I'm here." When Allison remained confused, he added, "To prepare for her arrival."

Allison wanted to say something else, but she couldn't think of something fittingly cutting enough. Luckily, she was eventually rescued by the slow trickle of passengers making their way to luggage claim. The trickle turned into more of a flow, and then

There she was.

Tyler waved. "Hey! Agrona!"

Agrona Argent was just a bit tall for a woman her age and a bit too thin, but not enough to stand out much. She had Allison's pale skin and thin nose, and she dyed her hair a more believable shade of red than that which had been favored by Victoria Argent. She wore tailored suits of sharp lines, making her all the more intimidating in appearance. She nodded at Tyler, and he immediately went off toward the carousel to find and collect her bags. She turned to Chris and Allison, smiling warmly and opening her arms. "It's so good to see family again!" she greeted them.

Allison stepped eagerly up to her, embracing her. "Grandma! It's been so long!"

Agrona smiled down at her granddaughter and stroked her hair lovingly. "Far too long. You've grown so much, Allison! I look forward to watching you become a fine leader. I'm so glad I could be here for that, despite the circumstances."

Allison frowned. "But if _you're_ here…"

"We are _all_ leaders, Allison. And I can't stay forever." Agrona stroked Allison's hair one more time, something strange and sad in her expression, then released her. She turned to Chris. "And what a fine soldier you still are," she said with a smile. She reached forward and patted him solidly on the arm. "You make me so proud, Chris. I'm so sorry about what you've been through."

Chris almost smiled. Almost. "Thank you, Mother."

Tyler returned loaded with far too many bags and a distinctly unamused expression. "Are we ready?" he asked.

Agrona nodded. "Thank you, Tyler. It's good to have you at my side again."

He frowned and leaned his weight on a taller suitcase. "I have to be in LA at the end of the week. Narrow window. You fine without me?"

"I'm with my family, Tyler. Of course, I'm fine," she answered, looking somewhat amused. She looked to Chris. "Are we ready?"

"Yeah, sure." Chris motioned for Tyler to follow him.

"Now I know why we took the SUV," Allison muttered. Her grandmother laughed and took her hand, dropping several steps behind the men, obviously eager to have one-on-one time with her granddaughter, so Allison promptly directed the topic to something safe. "I don't really like Tyler," she admitted.

Agrona laughed and shrugged. "Well, I didn't hire him to be liked." She squeezed Allison's hand. "Do you want to tell me about Scott McCall?"

Allison felt sick. For just a moment, she had been able to pretend that she still had a normal grandmother and normal relationships with her family. "We broke up," she said quickly. "But he's good. He's fine. I swear he won't cause trouble for—"

"Allison! Allison!" Agrona cried, stopping and clutching her granddaughter by the arms, stooping slightly to look into her eyes. Ahead, Tyler and Chris paused to watch them, Tyler with annoyance and Chris with curiosity and trepidation. "Hey…" Agrona said as soothingly as she could. "I'm so sorry; I wasn't aware I needed to explain, but I should have been. Allison, I am not my ex-husband, and I am so sorry that I allowed him so much influence. When I asked about Scott, I asked because I want to know about your friends. If you've broken up, then I suppose I'd rather hear about Lydia Martin."

Allison gawked up at her. "You mean— But— What about the—?"

"The lycanthropy?" Agrona frowned, straightening up and crossing her arms. "Has he killed anyone?"

"No! No, never!" Allison insisted. "He has done everything possible to protect everyone!"

"Has he hurt anyone?"

Allison looked away. "Only… Only Gerard."

Agrona sighed. "Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent. Do you know what that means?"

Allison looked at her shoes. "We hunt those who hunt us."

Agrona reached out and raised Allison's chin. "It _means_ that I have yet to hear any reason why I should be concerned, as a hunter, about Scott McCall."

Allison stared in disbelief. Then, suddenly, she was crying.

Agrona pulled her into a tight hug and rubbed circles on her back. "You poor child," she mumbled. "What has that man done?"


	9. Home

A month. Cassie had thought she'd stay with the McCalls for a week, tops. But, as it turned out, she was more than capable of doing her work remotely, and the government greatly enjoyed this because it made it easier to spy on what she was doing. And the McCalls…

Well, they were better now. Melissa and Scott had fallen back into what appeared to be a fairly normal mother-son relationship. Scott was aggressively trying to improve himself, studying hard, working out, helping his friend train for lacrosse, but sometimes the way he spoke of himself made Cassie's heart break. There was a difference between saying that he wanted to be more available to his mother and saying that he wanted to be a better son.

And yet, Cassie just never got around to leaving. Sometimes Scott wanted to talk to her about being a wolf or even run with her. Sometimes Melissa wanted to go out and catch up. Sometimes, she just missed the human connection. She'd never realized how different it was living with the Hork-Bajir.

Other things, however, didn't change at all.

"Aunt Cassie?" Scott said, sleepily stumbling up the hall as she dumped coffee into the brewer.

She smiled. "Scott, you do know I'm not actually you're aunt, right?"

He shrugged. "My abuela isn't my abuela, so whatever you want to be called." He grinned. "I like Aunt Cassie, too."

Cassie's smile grew and her chest ached. "Thanks."

Scott sat at the table. "Can I ask you a question?" he said.

She was surprised. "Yeah, sure."

"Why are up at night so often?" he said. "Or the crack of dawn?"

Cassie smirked. "Well, where I live, we have very little electricity," she explained. "It all goes to the computers and research equipment. So I got up when the sun got up."

"Mom said you're a legal advocate."

"I am," said Cassie. "But I live among researchers. Mostly running interference between them and the locals."

"What are they researching?"

"Um… lizards?"

Scott seemed to accept her answer. He had no reason not to. Melissa had told him that she was trustworthy, and that was enough. She poured her coffee and sat next to him. "I have nightmares, too," he admitted quietly.

Cassie patted his arm. "I know," she said. She took a sip of her coffee then said, "They do get better, with time."

That earned a disbelieving look. "Then why do you have them?" Scott said.

Cassie smiled understandingly. "I said they get better. I didn't say they go away," she said. She looked down at her coffee. She didn't really want to drink it; she'd just wanted something to do. "They get… slightly better. Just enough to give you hope that one day you'll feel normal again."

"Cassie…" Scott sighed and laid his head down on the table. "I'm not going to be normal again, am I?" When she looked at him, he added, "I'm always going to be a werewolf. Even if the bad stuff stops… Things won't be the same."

Cassie sipped her coffee again. "No, that's true," she said. "But… Do you know what normal people do, Scott?"

Scott shrugged, confused. "Normal things?"

She nodded. "Exactly," she said. "Normal people do normal things. And weird people… do the weird things. Those weird things don't happen because we're weird, Scott. They're going to happen with or without us. We become weird so we can deal with them. To fill a gap in the roles." She glanced down at her mug. "That's what I believe, anyway."

She continued, "It's hard, doing the weird things. Your life is at risk. You make hard choices. You become a reason that people cry. Sometimes, you'd much rather be someone whose biggest worry is taxes. But, because you're weird, other people still get to have that as their biggest worry. And that's not nothing."

Scott nodded merely to show that he was listening. "I guess I'll think about that," he mumbled.

Cassie sipped her coffee again, then turned to him. "Who's your fake abuela?" she asked. "I've never heard you mention her before."

"Oh, uh… We don't really talk," Scott mumbled, playing with his fingers nervously.

Cassie frowned. "Can I ask why not?"

"You'll think it's stupid."

Cassie chuckled. "Well, if that's true, that's okay."

Scott pushed his hand through his hair. "She, um, sent the wrong card," he admitted.

"The wrong card?" Cassie asked, confused.

"I turned eleven. She sent me a card for my tenth birthday."

"Oh." Cassie blinked at him. "Wow." She pushed her coffee cup over to him. "That's… wow."

Scott sighed. "It's stupid. I just… I was already mad at her for not being my real abuela and… I don't know," he admitted. He drank the coffee.

"Why were you mad at her?"

Scott chewed his lip. Finally, he answered, "Because if my abuela was real, was here, then my dad could come back. Whatever reason he had for going, surely he was still connected to his own mother. And then Mom could be less sad. Things could stop being hard. People would stop asking about him all the time." He slid the cup back over to her and put his head on the table. "But she's not my abuela. She's just some old lady with too much money and not enough friends." He ducked his head slightly. "It's not her fault really, but… I just… I don't want to."

Cassie nodded. "That's an understandable reaction."

"I probably hurt her feelings," Scott mumbled.

Cassie shrugged. "You look pretty hurt yourself." Scott just shrugged again. She reached over and ruffled his fluffy hair. "Come on. Let's get you to bed. You have work in the morning." She lead him back to the hall, saying, "I should probably get back to my room, too. The guest room, I mean."

Scott paused and looked back at her. "You know… It wouldn't be awful if it /was/ your room."

Cassie smiled again, and again her chest ached. "Go to bed, Scott."


End file.
